


Two Kinds of Monster

by DefiantLoon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Byleth is a victim for one (1) second, Did I get everything?, Dimitri is creepy af, Drabble, Emotional Abuse, F!Byleth, F/M, Feral Dimitri, Minor Sylvain appearance, No actual sex, Post-Timeskip, a bit of blood, but much sexual tension, dimileth, mildly dark, noncon elements, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiantLoon/pseuds/DefiantLoon
Summary: Shortly post-timeskip.Every day, Byleth comes to Dimitri in the cathedral and waits for the day he'll let her help him. When she finally gets him to speak to her, he tries to go harder on pushing her away...but his wires cross between his current bloodlust and his lingering affection for his former professor. Mind the tags.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	Two Kinds of Monster

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write fluff but then this happened. Anyway, first Dimileth fic. I wrote this kinda fast because I was just having a lot of fun with it--so, sorry about the perspective being everywhere. May rewrite someday to make it consistent.
> 
> Mini epilogue with Sylvain is there because I wanted to write it and couldn't stop myself.

Most people stayed out of the cathedral when he was there. For a while they would come and try to speak with him, some more persistent than others, all with their own tactics. When even Mercedes had given up, it seemed they had all finally accepted that Dimitri was dead.

But the professor was a special kind of stubborn.

He could snap at her, threaten to kill her, continually push her away, and still she came every day to sit there as he mumbled to himself or stared at the walls for hours. He didn’t think she’d be alive while she haunted him.

Right on time, he heard her footsteps, each louder than the next as she approached the front of the church and stood at the first pew.

“Dimitri?” she called out to him flatly. This went on every day there wasn’t a battle, and she had learned by now to keep her feelings hidden well.

“Must you repeat this foolish song and dance?” he growled back. “Leave. Now.”

The pew creaked as she sat down. One might think she was one of the church’s statues with how still she would sit there, watching him and waiting.

 _She distracts you,_ his father said.

“No,” Dimitri replied quietly. “She used to. Not anymore.”

“What do they say about me?”

Her empty voice pierced his mind, prodding at the soft spots, tempting memories out from their locked boxes. He thought she was done trying to talk. Her silence was much easier to ignore.

“They do not say anything about you. You are inconsequential.”

“I would have liked to meet your father,” she mused. “People used to say you were a lot alike.”

For the first time, he turned around and looked at her. She stared back, studying him, always searching for something in that clear blue eye.

“What is it you want?” he asked bitterly, taking a step toward her.

Byleth stood and stepped forward as well, her blank expression unchanged. It used to unnerve him. Now it just made him angry. The way her appearance hadn’t changed at all was disorienting and he often changed his mind on whether he thought she was alive or not.

When she didn’t respond he continued toward her, the irritation in his voice growing.

“What do you think you are going to accomplish? You’re going to tell me that I have to let go--let go ‘for my own sake’. And then what? We’ll watch together as Fódlan burns?”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking of you.”

Dimtri closed the distance between them, now near enough for her to smell that musty cloak and the faint scent of blood that never seemed to leave him. She was so damn calm, even as he stood over her glowering. He was much taller than her now, and cut a terrifying figure with his size and scars...to everyone but her. She had never been afraid of Dimitri, not even now.

“You are looking for the weak, stupid boy that used to follow at your heel.”

She looked up at him defiantly, those strange colored eyes unwavering.

“I’m looking for the kind, honorable man I know you can be.”

He laughed--a harsh, sharp sound that echoed through the cathedral. His frustration with her was starting to turn into a feeling not unlike the sick euphoria he got before a kill. The moment before one more sin was to be added to his ledger, and his broken mind turned his conscience into brutal righteousness. This good, kind man they all were looking for...he wished he could kill that person before their eyes. He thought his mere appearance had been enough to prove it.

“Is it because you were the one who had me convinced I was better than this? Do you need to prove I am not a monster, so you can believe the same about yourself?”

Her eyes narrowed--finally a show of emotion. It gave him a bit of a thrill, like knowing he had an enemy in a corner, though it was even better to get a reaction from the so-called Ashen Demon.

“You need help,” she asserted. “The more loss you suffered, the easier it became for you to just stop caring. The Dimitri I knew didn’t take the easy way. He at least fought to be a good person despite what happened to him. But he needed help.”

She looked down to the ground, her voice quieter. “I wasn’t able to be there for you when you needed me. But I’m here now. We can fix this together.”

He hadn’t noticed the pain in his chest until now, when it was nearly suffocating. With it came a growing sense of panic, his mind fighting itself to resist this call for sentimentality that would ruin his resolve. He was alive for one purpose, and the “Dimitri she knew” would not be able to fulfill it.

He would make her see just how wrong she was. Threats of violence had already proved futile. But it was becoming clear where her true weak spot was. And he was quite well-versed in guilt.

“You are right,” he whispered, his voice suddenly small and desperate.

Byleth blinked, wary of the quick change in demeanor. He sort of stumbled forward, close enough that she had to catch him by the arms. She wanted to see his eye, to try to read him, but his overgrown hair covered his face as he held his head low.

“You always knew how to calm my fraught mind…”

He leaned in toward her, so close that their noses nearly touched, his hair brushing her forehead. Byleth froze. This different voice he used reminded her of the times they would confide in each other...times his presence made her feel so safe and known. She tried hard to focus and keep her guard up, but every word was melting her.

“...I confess,” so close, so painfully close to her with his heady voice, “I have always felt like I needed you. But even then I was a monster. I wanted you all the time.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Everything in Byleth said no. She was smarter than this. It was a bad idea no matter what his intent was. She told herself for a long time that he was her close friend, but now that they were here, her denial of her own feelings was starting to dawn on her. It was easy to tell herself that now was not the right time, but much harder to make herself stop it.

“Professor…”

He reached out and took her chin in one hand, tilting her head up. The leather glove was cold on her skin.

“Byleth,” she corrected him weakly. _Don’t, don’t, don’t..._

“Byleth,” he repeated, the name barely getting out before he pressed his lips to hers.

She did nothing. Her eyes remained wide open, watching him the way she watched an opponent she didn’t want to underestimate. For the briefest of moments as his eye closed, she was certain she could see a hint of clarity in him.

Byleth easily could have stopped him. One of the first things Jeralt ever taught her was how to take down someone larger than her, and it was a skill she ended up having to use more often than she liked. But she saw Dimitri. For just seconds she saw that shy young man, always looking at her with a sort of sad fondness.

On his end he seemed to lose his own reasoning, on the brink of convincing himself that this was all he meant to do. He had wished for this back then, but became numb to the feeling long ago when he assumed she was dead. But she was here now, and she was so soft, warm, pliant...

 _You are wasting your time,_ said a voice in his head, though his thoughts were too hazy to recognize which. _We rot while you let yourself indulge in something you don’t deserve._

 _Yes,_ he thought dully, coming back to himself. _I’ve made her kiss a corpse. She’ll see I don’t deserve it._

His grip on her tightened and the kiss became harder, hungrier. She made a surprised sound against him, suddenly feeling like she couldn’t breathe. More than the escalated intensity, she was beginning to fear he might shatter her jaw with his insane strength. His thumb was pressing into her cheek and it was all changing from intense to outright painful, fast.

Her hand flew up to wrap around his wrist, and she was about to stop him when he finally broke away. He stayed close, his heavy breath mixing with hers, that eye watching her. Byleth attempted to regain her composure quickly, her eyes wildly searching his expression for some hint of his intent. Perhaps this was the moment. Perhaps she just needed to remind him, and this was merely a rush of feelings they could sort out later.

But his voice was cruel when he spoke again.

“That did not seem to bother you. Is that what it is, then? Do you actually like that I am a monster?”

The heaviness of her disappointment seemed to fall on her all at once, overwhelming her so quickly that she couldn’t quite believe it right away. His touch was starting to make her feel sick.

Dimitri knew he was bordering on too far for her, compelled by an odd, heart-racing mix of desire and self disgust. He wanted to hurt her, and he wanted her to like it, and he wanted her to hate him, and all at the same time, he wanted to save her from this. With one hand now holding the side of her face still, he gently traced his thumb around the curve of her bottom lip. How far would she let him go? A better question--how much did he hate himself? Certainly enough to keep going.

“Perhaps you are the one denying what is inside of you, deep down,” he went on with a condescending softness in his tone. “Perhaps I can help you find it.”

He tilted his head back just slightly, as if to admire his work as he slowly eased his gloved thumb past her lips.

And _there_ was the shocked, disgusted expression he wanted from her.

Her stomach lurched as he let out a satisfied hum, his thumb now pressing lightly on her tongue. The sound of him enjoying this--of mocking her affection for him in such a perverse way--cracked something inside of her.

Fine, she _was_ a monster. But she was not the same kind as him.

Byleth bit down hard and wasted no time once Dimitri yanked his hand back. She turned on her left foot and slammed her right into his ankle as hard as she could manage. It wasn’t enough to hurt much, but it was enough to force him to bend his knee to keep himself steady. It took off a little of his height--an advantage she used to grab him by his hair, pull him down, and ram her knee into his face, sending him reeling backward.

She had to admit, the stream of furious curses satisfied her. As soon as his back hit the ground, she stepped over him and straddled his stomach. He looked up at her, dazed, with blood streaming from the bridge of his nose. She leaned over him and braced her hands on either side of his head, her face twisted in a snarl. She only realized she’d been crying when her tears fell and splashed on his cheek.

Once, Dimitri would have killed a man for doing such a thing, especially to her. Looking at him now, she could see that he knew it, too. It was as if he thought of the more vile things he could do aside from outright assault, and did it just to punish his former self. To punish her for caring about that person.

That manic energy was completely gone, leaving him just sick with himself and wishing she had it in her to kill him.

“Well,” he said weakly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Do you believe me, then?”

“No,” she growled. “You are _unwell_. After what you’ve been through, it’s no fucking wonder. And I know what you’re doing, trying to be worse and worse. You think you’re destroying the people around you, but every day you go on with this, you destroy yourself. And I will not let you destroy someone I love.”

He looked away, then closed his eye tight when the room spun above him. The meaning of her words slowly sank in.

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” he muttered, but his voice was mild.

Her expression softened and a fresh stream of tears blurred her vision. She lifted one hand to stroke his hair.

“I know your heart is still there,” she whispered. “It’s too strong to give up. It always has been. I’ll be here for it when you come back.”

With that, Byleth stood and wiped the tears from her eyes. She stepped over him and turned to leave, and her voice carried an almost otherworldly venom when she spoke again.

“But until you come back, you will never touch me again.”

Staring at the ceiling, watching the carvings dance in his blurred vision, Dimitri listened to her footsteps as they faded away.

“Hah,” he said to the ceiling. “Until…”

The dead were quiet. His own voice from years ago came to him.

_There are times I’m chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions._

\---

Byleth showed no surprise when she saw Sylvain standing outside the doors of the cathedral.

“Hello, Sylvain,” she greeted tonelessly, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

He noticed her red eyes, and for once didn’t seem to have a joke for the occasion.

“Professor. Sorry. We all sort of agreed we should try and keep watch when you come by here. I know you can handle yourself, but His Highness is...worrisome, lately. We’ve all been kinda concerned about you going in there by yourself.”

Byleth managed a small smile. At least the rest of them hadn’t changed much.

“I appreciate it, Sylvain, but it’s not necessary.”

“I was about to come in, actually. There was some, uh, noise in there.”

Byleth didn’t look up.

“His Highness has a bloody nose. He may want to see a healer. Could be broken.”

She began walking across the bridge back to the monastery. Sylvain stood behind for a moment.

“There’s no way,” he said to himself.

Byleth kept walking. Sylvain jogged over to catch up, his voice a mix of amazement and giddiness.

“Did you _fight_ Dimitri?”

She shrugged. “Fighting implies two people attacking each other.”

“...did you _beat up_ Dimitri?”

“Do you know where Felix is?” She asked casually. “I feel like sparring.”

“Professor,” he begged, “you have to tell me. This may be the funniest thing that’s ever happened in my life. I think Felix would actually kiss your hand!”

“Not as funny as you’d think. Maybe go see how His Highness is faring. Give him some advice on how to smooth-talk the ladies.”

“Are you going back tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said resolutely. “And the day after that. But I promise it’s never going to be exciting again, so don’t get your hopes up. Excuse me.”

Sylvain stayed on the bridge and watched her go. He looked over his shoulder at the cathedral, considering checking out the damage. He decided it wasn’t worth dealing with Dimitri as he was now, and instead ran off to tell Ingrid that the Crown Prince of Faerghus, currently quite deserving of having his ass kicked by general consensus, was taken out by their 5'3'' professor.


End file.
